


bad heart, bad head

by capondi



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: The Ocarina of Time
Genre: AU, Action/Adventure, Angst and Feels, F/M, Fantasy, Humor, Ocarina of Time inspired, Roles are reversed, Tags to be added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:48:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26430679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/capondi/pseuds/capondi
Summary: No one really told the king’s son what to do. They especially didn’t tell him with hands on their hips and dirt on their face. Hyrule city continued to bustle and talk, parting with a familiar subtlety around the royal contingent. The girl, however, did not.She was glaring at him like she wished that looks could kill. Link tripped over his feet to stop his pace, the book he had been absorbed in falling to his side. He had been walking with his formation of guards, the two in front now halted, halberds crossed between him and the scrappy thing that stood ahead of him.“-And it wouldn’t kill you to watch where you’re going!”
Relationships: Link/Zelda (Legend of Zelda)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 29





	1. one

This a total AU. I've played LOZ games but my interpretation is going to be for my own fun. I am openly receptive to suggestions, and would LOVE to have input as this goes on. Never wrote for this fandom, but I hope that some of you like it ;)

\-----  
_"Won’t we be quite the pair?—you with your bad heart, me with my bad head. Together, though, we might have something worthwhile."_  
\- Zelda Fitzgerald _  
\-----_

____

Around some fires it goes like this: 

In a nation long since vanished, the many wealths of its fields and the great production of its industry were brought to bear on the backs of its people. The subjugation of untold ages nestled so deep in every crack and seam of its culture that it could not stand without it, and so was never challenged.

Until the Gods saw fit to intervene. From the people one was chosen and gifted an object of great ability: Courage. Through action and words this person was able to rouse the servile populace into a rebellion that overtook its complacent lords in quick measure. The blessed one passed down this legacy and the object that had borne it through many generations after. So that courage, when needed, would always be at hand.

Preached at crowded tables it goes like this:

In a kingdom now burned to ash, the corruption of its underbelly spread through the people like a plague, under the care of a weak and impotent monarchy. Thievery and lawlessness prospered and multiplied while military forces dissented by the hundreds. The entire kingdom became nothing but a den of outlaws, an epicenter of blackmarket dealings, a pit of sin.

Until the Gods saw fit to intervene. From its dwindling monarchy the youngest heir was chosen and gifted an object of great ability: Power. Through imposing speeches and a decisive drive for order this heir gained kingship and an influence that turned the tide of her people. The blessed one passed down this legacy and the object that borne it through many generations after. So that power, as needed, would never fail its people.

On the lips of minstrels it goes like this:

In a city that echoes now, lonely and deep, its spires and its aspirations reached for the stars. The people searched for answers. Aching for meaning, the people divided themselves into segregated schools of thought. Contentious ideologies among its people split the kingdom, with no one left to unify it. 

Until the Gods saw fit to intervene. A scholar, rising from the mire of a lowly station, was chosen and gifted an object of great ability: Wisdom. With an open and eager mind the scholar listened to his people, and learned to speak for all of them. He closed the rifts to establish a peace that advanced their collective knowledge ten-fold. The blessed one passed down this legacy and the object that had borne it, through generations of students after. So that wisdom, as needed, would connect all lives in harmony.

\-------------------------

No one really told the king’s son what to do. They especially didn’t tell him with hands on their hips and dirt on their face. Hyrule city continued to bustle and talk, parting with a familiar subtlety around the royal contingent. The girl, however, did not.

She was glaring at him like she wished that looks could kill. Link tripped over his feet to stop his pace, the book he had been absorbed in falling to his side. He had been walking with his formation of guards, the two in front now halted, halberds crossed between him and the scrappy thing that stood ahead of him.

“-And it wouldn’t kill you to watch where you’re going!”

He had missed the first part of whatever she was saying, busy reading, and only now looked up to find the disruption. Their eyes locked; She was addressing him specifically. He wasn’t used to people looking at him like that: angry, offended. Disappointed. A guard -Myka? Maybe- lowered his weapon and reached to move the girl aside. She really looked like she might bite his hand, so maybe that’s why he called,

“Wait!”

Obedient as ever, the guard paused. Link watched the girl eye him up, from boot to golden diadem, then back to his eyes. She had blue eyes, and golden hair a shade lighter than his own. Her angular features and pointed ears marked her as someone of Hyrulean descent. Her tunic and shorts, woven from a course green thread, seemed foreign, though he couldn’t place it. She was crossing her arms across her middle, the gesture sticking out to him. Before knowing what he was looking for, he noticed the lumps hiding beneath her shirt. Like she was hiding something underneath.

Oh. 

She was shoplifting.

“Let her be. I apologize for any inconvenience.”

If anything, the hackles on the girl seemed to rise even more. Her guarded expression shifted to confusion as she looked at him. He was very lost as to what to do. The silence stretched out, before finally she stepped out of the way of the guard without a word. Link’s gaze followed her until she disappeared among the masses, of which several of whom had stopped to watch the encounter. The flow of traffic had already resumed before a nearby guard cleared his throat. They needed to move on.

Shaking his head, clearing his mind from the unexpected encounter, he strode forward with his guards in seamless company. Back to usual, back to roaming the streets of the city as was scheduled. By his side he clutched a book, now forgotten.


	2. two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I just want to eat chuchu jelly, okay? Don't judge me.  
> \-----  
>  _"Eventually soulmates meet, for they have the same hiding place"_  
>  \- Robert Brault  
> \-----

Strictly speaking, he shouldn’t be doing this.

Actually, even in the loosest of terms, he shouldn’t be doing this.

Hyrule city in the evening was a very different version of the day. In place of sunlight bearing down and reflecting up off the cobblestones, lanterns bloomed to warm the shadows of the encroaching dark. Stall merchants and shopkeepers saved their voices in a dwindling tide of customers - all local, unless they planned on staying the night. Shutters closed on homes illuminated with firelight, and if Link paused at the sight of pure domesticity and _home_ , then- well.

One more thing he shouldn’t be doing.

He was well aware of his station, his position in life. He was privileged, not only by his royal blood but by the love and support of his kingdom’s people. But a castle, however grand, had cold walls and empty halls that mirrored something in himself that he needed reprieve from.

A few years ago, he started sneaking out. 

The castle had an entrance for receiving supplies - mostly food - that went unobserved at night. Security was centered around the castle’s outer perimeter. The door would latch and lock from the outside _if_ he did not jam a stone into the locking mechanism. The walls around the castle were regularly observed for weakness or attempts to intrude from the outside. The inside, however, was not. Thick vines and rough-cut stone made for an acceptable platform of escape. A rope, tied to the inside and coiled on the top of the wall, connected by an unnoticeable string on the outside, allowed him to climb over and return.

He shouldered his way through the dwindling crowds, heart pounding just a little more than usual. Would he see the girl from a few days ago? If she recognized him - if _anyone_ recognized him - his occasional trips of freedom would be over. Her piercing stare, so different to those of his regular subjects, gave him the inclination that she would not forget a face. Her mouth as well. She would call him out. Seeing her again could be very, very bad news. As he scanned the small flocks of customers, he found himself interested if she was present.

One more thing he shouldn’t be doing.

A swell of high voices gained his attention, several children bumping against his legs as they ran past. He felt a small hand in his coat, grabbing an apple from his pocket, and caught the child by the wrist.

His hold was gentle, and the little girl looked back at him happily. He held on while she and the other children ran into a nearby alley.

Link slid down to sit against the wall, laughing while the kids now played catch with the apple. Here, out of sight of the general public, he lowered the hood of the cloak he was wearing. He had let his hair down, different from the ponytail he usually wore, but a hood and a change in gait also made him less easy to recognize.

The girl who had led him here - Riko - plopped down by his side, leaning into him. She ran off anything she found of interest from the past few days, like how Umqua and Imar had a fight over a race, the sunset had been pretty yesterday, and the birds in the nest two alleys over had finally learned to fly. 

Link laughed, hummed, and gave his comments on the matter as she spoke. He wondered what it would have been like to have siblings. His mother had passed shortly after he was born. His father, who was now in poor health, left him with a sense of dire expectation. How long ago had he stopped being a child? He cherished moments like this, where he was not Crown Prince, but simply Link.

He fished into his pockets and his satchel, retrieving bread, roasted cucco, nutcake, more fruit and chuchu jelly. The children had finally exhausted themselves and sat down to eat their fill. For all of it’s flaunted charm, Hyrule left some of its people overlooked. His father had orphanages built to care for children like these, but Link knew they didn’t get the care they deserved, running the streets, desperate not for food so much, but for the scraps of love they could scavenge. He could relate to that.

In the middle of an arm wrestle with the Goron boy, Umqua, which he was trying to convincingly lose (or maybe desperately win), two more children ran into the alleyway. Mikey and Bo. 

Bo shouted, “Help! Help, Richy is hurt!”

Link didn’t know who “Richy” was, but he shot up in an instant, tearing down the alley to follow the children. They led him through a maze of other back alleys he had never mapped, the darkness dominating here except for slivers of windowed light. The boys directed him to a place where the path broadened, rooftops separating enough to be lit by starlight, allowing him to see a bit better.

There was a figure in a cloak hunched over a small animal. Their hand smoothed over its face, whispering calm words he couldn’t make out. As he slowed, the kids reached the figure, asking things like “will he be alright?” and “will he die?” Coming closer, Link saw the person held a small white dog, with a dark wet spot spreading over his hip. Blood, he imagined. He hated to see an animal suffer and die, but he hated even more that the children might be witness to this. He trotted to the animal’s side and knelt down, unsure of what to do.

“What happened?” He got out, before looking up into the face of the person holding the poor dog.

Into eyes that were blue even in the middle of the night.

Eyes that widened and then narrowed as recognition set in.

“You!” they said at the same time. Him, in startled fascination. Her, in some kind of resentment he could not quite place.

It was a sad sight to see, probably: the Prince of Hyrule, falling flat on his ass in a dirty alley in front of a gaggle of orphans and a thief. He had a moment to think about that before the girl in question seemed to reign herself in. She sucked in a deep breath. She looked back down at the dog and he saw the genuine concern in her eyes.

“He’s bleeding.” It sounded more like a plea than a whisper.

Having no idea what to do, he knew he had to do something. He righted himself and tentatively examined the dog's wounds. Several lacerations of some sort. Maybe something had bit him? Blood trickled down, making rivers in the stones, making him fear for blood loss. He shed his cloak, reaching into his boot for his dagger. He tore into his sleeve, separating it from the rest of his cloak, and tied it firmly around the dog’s hip.

“Have to get him home,” is all he said, taking the dog up in his arms and marching away.

The girl had watched him with a blank yet tense expression the entire time. For whatever reason, he avoided her eyes or remarking on their past encounter. He was a few steps down the alley before he looked down at one of the children.

“Where, uh…”

“This way!” Riko darted ahead of him, and Link followed. They followed another confounding series of alleys ( _was Hyrule some sort of labyrinth?_ ) before arriving at a door. One child pounded at it, and soon Link could hear a woman speaking from the other side.

“I’m coming, I’m coming! You don’t want your cakes to burn now, litt-”

The door opened to light and warmth and the smell of baked goods. A well-rounded woman stood in the entrance, paused at the sight of a stranger. Her eyes fell to the dog in his arms.

“Richard?”

She sucked in a gasp before scooping him up, while Link stuttered out an explanation.

“He got hurt. I don’t know how. The kids found him and-”

The woman looked up at him, hoodless and right in front of her. She blinked a few times and Link’s heart may have stopped.

“You- You’re…”

The girl from before was suddenly at his side. She gripped his arm in a short, hard grip, before whispering in his ear:

“You might want to run.”


	3. three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so there was a part of this chapter that involved Beedle. And it was going to involve him giving Link an important item BUT I don't know what that should be yet. Comments and suggestions are always welcome. I have a good Idea of where this story is going but I'm enjoying your input!!!  
> \-----  
>  _"heartbreak is a crown_  
>  — i wear it well."  
> -eira s

He was doomed. He was doomed, he was doomed, he was doomed.

Stars spun past his windows until the grey light washed them out of sight. The colors of dawn rose heedless of his mounting anxiety. The songs of cuckoos and other birds grew until he shut his eyes tight against the gong of the gate bell, signaling the true beginning of the day, when the drawbridge lowered, and Castle town was open for business..

He hadn’t slept a wink. He stared up at the ceiling above his oversized bed while lying across the mattress where he had collapsed, unmoving, since the night before. An ornate crown molding framed the worn yet carefully maintained fresco above: it depicted the antiquated legends of the old kingdoms. One of the last images he saw before sleep, and the first to greet him when he awoke.

Three figures dominated the image, arranged in a triangular formation: central to the place above where he lay, a grey and bearded man removed a crown from his bowed head. Lower, and to the left, a hooded person knelt, leaning heavily on a sword embedded in the ground. To the right of this, the third crouched figure was dark and unknowable while turned away from the scene altogether, hands planted firmly at either side. A flourish of people and palaces emerged painted in the spaces between them, the images now seeming to spin in front of him as he pressed a hand back against his eyes and groaned.

He should have slept, but he couldn’t. He thought word would be sent through the night. Flashes of it appeared before his eyes every time they closed: The woman’s look of recognition; the dog bloodied and being wrapped by his own hands _(what else could he have done there?)_ ; the girl who appeared at the beginning and end of his every recent inconvenience. He supposed there could be worse ones. As he sat up, stiff from sleeplessness, he considered what lay ahead of him.

He hadn’t done anything _that_ wrong, when you thought about it. He was a prince, after all. Would charges come against him for the dog? Unlikely, he hoped. Worse was, there would be no rest from Impa until his means of escape were discovered. He took his scheduled walks through town every other day, and pretended they were enough for him. Perhaps he could turn his case and plead for more hours outside of the castle, citing the recent incident.

Once he had convinced them that he was satisfied, _then_ he could go about securing another means of escape. There was always another way, something he often found to be true.

Sluggishly, he changed into fresh clothes: a pale blue tunic that was light and breathable, but sported delicate gold embroidery to its edges and seams, an embellished buckle uniting it at the waist. Against the castle’s ever present chill he wore a simple coat in a darker blue, but every angle of its tailorship spoke volumes to its value. It wasn’t as comfortable as the dark cloth coat he had bought two years back off a peddler, producing coins from his pockets without thought before his guards could rush him along.

The one he had sliced into the night prior to bandage the dog with, leaving the rest of it behind.

He dragged his hands down his face, moaning aloud. There were too many variables at hand here. What was he going to face today?

In an unexpected surge of frustration and anger he wondered, what had that girl been doing there in the first place? He had never seen her with the children before in all his nightly outings and she just happened to be there when he got discovered? He couldn’t find her exact fault in the matter but yet some royal indignation in him swelled that she _dare_ -

He stormed over to his dressing table where his washing basin and accoutrements lay, forcing himself to ignore the burning in his eyes. He splashed his face with water and wiped it dry, tying his bed head in a hasty ponytail. 

It wasn’t like he was hurting anybody. Those children cared for him and felt more like family than anyone in this dusty castle had to offer him. And wasn’t his duty also to them? She could ruin all that if she wanted, this dirty faced girl. Breathing coming shallow and his vision blurred, Link reached out and grabbed his sword.

Looking at the thin, sheathed weapon in his hands for a moment he was left with confusion. 

He hadn’t been reaching for that. 

It dropped to the table and bounced off toward the floor with a clatter on the stones.

With shakier hands he reached for his diadem. Adjusting it on his head, he turned to leave the room.

\-----

There was a place in the Castle commons that never seemed to be upkeeped. The grass grew thick here, and as Link passed his fingers through it, it almost seemed to hum with recognition. He smiled, passing under the thin and twisted trees that grew close together, uncultivated and wild. His mother used to take him here, and maybe she seemed to like this state of growth as a kind of garden. He thought gardens meant flowers or fruits, but the garden here produced only shade. A quietude. A peace.

Eventually, he reached the statue he was looking for: The stone woman with water rushing out of two outstretched hands. Green mold made a skirt for her, and birds drank in her upturned palms. It was more cool than warm here where the dew had not yet evaporated and the sunlight only dappled.

His mother would bring him here because she knew he hated mornings, that she could lay him across her lap here and coax him awake.

Link ran his hands slowly over the simple stone bench, feeling his emotions calm as he attuned himself to memory. Closing his eyes, he tried to remember what she looked like. Yellow hair and green eyes like his. Beautiful face, and larger than average ears that he remembered, or imagined, reaching out for. She laughed a little loud. Her age showed in the slight lines around her eyes, and maybe she had been a little grey like his father, whom Link had only ever known to be grey.

She sang constantly, he was sure. Or hummed to fill every silence. He had no great love for music now, no melody ever hers, even though he couldn’t remember what they were.

Tears, not entirely brought on by sadness, began to wet his cheeks. If she could be here now, what advice would she offer him? Even her words were lost to his memory. His father spoke only of sagely advice. Expressing, in no uncertain terms, that it was his responsibility to protect his people and his legacy. Like there was no time to pass on anything else. Because there probably wasn’t.

But his mother could have- would have seen him for something more. Would have _seen_ him, and this thought alone had him hiccupping cries in the garden, wetting his fine sleeves as he wiped them away.

Someone cleared their throat behind him. He stopped crying on a stuttering breath. Why was a guard seeking him out now, unless-

“What is it?”

“I thought you might want this back.”

He spun around, twisted back on the bench to stare with wide eyes at the girl- _the girl_ that was standing there. On castle grounds, in his mother’s private garden. Holding his cloak.

He barely registered the latter as he stumbled inelegantly to his feet, striding over to her.

“What are you doing here? How did you get in? You could be caught, you-”

He hissed out every word, somewhere between panicked and furious, because _why_ was she here? To turn him in? If not, if she were discovered how would she explain herself? The girl only frowned at him, otherwise unperturbed by his reaction, apparently. She held his cloak out higher, trying to gain his attention.

“You left this last night. I reattached the sleeve for you.”

He stared at the garment for so long she had to practically shove it into his arms for him to take it. It draped over his hands, unfurling enough for him to see the rough threading that connected one sleeve to the shoulder; the dark stain on the arm someone had clearly tried to wash out, but failed.

Link opened and closed his mouth a few times, searching for something to say. His mind was both active and numb at the same time as he tried to process the situation.

“You’re welcome?”

She was ducking her head to look up at him, her stubborn chin jutting out. Her spunk centered him in his frustration.

“Right. Thank you. But you still haven’t answered my question. How did you get in here?”

The girl had the nerve to cross her arms and blow out through her lips as she turned her head, like _he_ was the one being irritating.

“How do _you_ get out?”

Answering a question with a question only made Link more agitated. He realized he had greater concerns than the ins and outs of the castle walls (security would feel _very_ differently, he was sure). “Are you here to blackmail me? Good luck.”

Her head whipped around, her sharp blue eyes glaring back at him. Her mouth flew open in indignation as she takes a step back. “What in the Great Fairy’s bosom are you talking about?”

He wasn’t even about to touch on _that_ turn of phrase, he just pressed on. “I was seen. You have to know I’m not supposed to be out there. So what do you want?”

His tone turned resigned at the end, his shoulders slumping. The girl blinked at him a few moments, reading him as he stood before her. She laughed once, humorously, before turning and walking away from him. “Do whatever you want, little prince.”

But he still had questions. And _gods_ was she infuriating. He darted forward and spun her around by the shoulder. “Who _are_ you?”

“Well, There you are. I’ve been looking all morning.”

Both Link and the girl grew still. Turning to his left, he met the steely eyes of his mentor and guardian, Impa. Her arms were crossed as she stood on a cocked hip. He knew that expression. Less familiar, he watched the girl straighten up and lower her eyes as she faced the older woman’s disapproval. She had stood down guards and smart-mouthed the prince, but now this?

He also hadn’t been expected to meet Impa until this afternoon, so why come looking for him now? He opened his mouth to protest, when the girl spoke first.

“I’m sorry, Master Impa.”


	4. four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so. I realized I had almost written myself into a continuity error with a scene in this one. I haven’t explicitly stated if the orphans know who Link really is or not. I’ve decided they don’t, because 1) kids can’t keep secrets lol and 2) it’s unlikely that they would have ever gotten a good look at him during the day when they’re doing their chores and he’s surrounded by guards.  
> 3) there’s just a funny scene I wanted to keep in this one.  
> \-----  
>  _"Experience is a brutal teacher, but you learn. My god, do you learn."_  
>  -C.S Lewis

The guards were chatty tonight. And _loud_.

This was fine by her, as she could better judge their movements. Hyrule city had closed its gates for the day, the sounds from within growing fainter as night descended. A copse of trees hid her presence from the guards at this distance. Only the barest hint of sunset still colored the western horizon. The clocktower chimed the evening bell, marking the changing of the guards. She heard more than saw them relinquish their posts on top of the wall, leaving it briefly unmanned. Zelda darted forward.

A river had been redirected around the city as a moat. Here, north of the main gate, a second, smaller drawbridge had been raised. Larger shipments left the city through here instead of through the primary thoroughfare. With practiced ease, Zelda threw out her grappling hook, catching the bridge at the top, allowing her to swing across to the loading dock on the other side. A service door, allowing access to the outside without lowering the drawbridge was located to the right. A thick iron gate secured it, some of its bars the size of her arm. A similarly imposing lock held it closed.

Good thing she had the key.

She slipped inside quickly and locked the gate behind her. The inside was pitch black and unguarded from the inside. She knew it to contain large crates for both import and export, as well as military battlements for defence against a siege. She navigated her path blindly, already knowing where the stairs were located. At the top, she placed an ear against the door and listened for guards.

This part of the wall was infrequently patrolled, but she had to be careful nonetheless. When Impa had given her the key she had promised that no help would come to her if she was caught. _”I’m not bailing you out, child. No one will believe you that I gave you this, and I won’t be hanged for treason.”_ She could visit the city freely during the day, but homeless travellers were not permitted to loiter in the streets at night.

And what she had to do now had to be done at night.

Sensing the coast was clear, she slipped from behind the door and made immediately for the opposite wall. Putting her back against it, she shimmied along until she reached an archway. A mixture of moonlight and firelight bled from there into the shadowed hall where she stood. She peeked her head around the corner to look out into an empty courtyard. More crates and wagons waited here, along with a small stable. On the opposite wall there was yet another iron gate. Beyond that lay the city.

She couldn’t get away with unlocking that one even if she had the key. It was manned from the outside. Without cover, she made a quiet dash for the stable against that same wall. She slipped through the fence into the small paddock. Five or six horses dozed upright in their stalls.

The stable boy was sweeping up, but he paused when he saw Zelda enter.

She gave him a wave that was partially apologetic, and he turned away, pretending not to see. Joah was a good kid. He got his fair share of goodies for keeping his mouth shut.

Without further ado, she climbed her way to the stable’s roof, onto the wall, and jumped down onto a low building. From there it was easy to make it into the back alleys she would have to stick to while she was here. They were cleared by guards before the city shut its gates every day, so they were hardly monitored now.

She took a moment to breathe, to let her guard down.

But she had work to do.

She walked among the shops and homes here until she heard voices. Children laughing. She turned a corner and found Mikey and Bo fooling around. Richard, a white dog belonging to Mamamu Yan, circled at their feet as they tossed a ball back and forth. Occasionally they pitched it for the dog to eagerly fetch.

Noticing Zelda, both boys ran to her, shouting her name. She put her finger to her lips for them to quiet down, but she was smiling nevertheless.

When they wouldn’t stop talking over each other she grabbed each one by the head and knocked them _almost_ gently together.

“Ow!” They said in unison, before descending into laughter.

“Alright, what have you two been up to? Nothing good I expect.”

She placed her hands on her hips as she looked at them, amused. She inspected their appearance. They looked well fed and at least somewhat washed. Good. Bo’s wide grin and the way he was practically vibrating with excitement was making her wary, though.

“I got something cool,” he said, clearly building up to a reveal.

She was frowning now, asking flatly, “what something cool?”

The boys traded a look before Bo pulled something from his back pocket. It was a small dagger, sheathed in leather, with a fine looking silver grip. _Too_ fine.

“Where did you get that?” She exclaimed, snatching it from his palm before he could take it back.

“I found it!” Bo pouted, reaching unsuccessfully for it.

“You mean you stole it! What were you thinking?” She was leaning down to get in his face. She didn’t have far to go: he was still a child but had shot up like a beanstalk in the past year, and was nearly as tall as her.

“So what! You steal!”

“I steal _food_ , moron! Not trinkets. Do you want to wind up in a cell?”

Well, she wasn’t being entirely truthful, but she could take care of herself. If these kids got caught stealing - and Bo _definitely_ would - they would be thrown in jail. This was their home, they had nowhere else to go, and they couldn’t live here like thieves. Some part of her wants to take them away, take them back with her to the forest, give them another life.

She closed her eyes, sighing hard. That wasn’t possible, and she knew it.

Both boys were staring guiltily at their feet, all fight gone from them.

“Come on, let’s find the others and see what trouble _they’ve_ gotten into.”

She guided both boys down the alley, Richard running ahead and coming back repeatedly, trying to engage them in a race. Soon there was a return to peace as they found they hadn’t fallen out of her good graces forever. They shared what their lives had been like in her absence, stories that were novel to her as they involved life in the city.

She even told them about how she had met the prince. They gawked at her, thoroughly impressed.

“No way!”

“What did you say?”

Her grin matched Bo’s from the moment prior. “I told him to watch where he was going.”

They were practically rolling in delight at that, and their joy was infectious. It was pretty funny, when she thought back on it.

Suddenly, from another alley up ahead, Richard was crying out in pain and alarm. All three ran toward the sound, winding the corner onto a darker, smaller passage. Zelda could just make out his small white form in the shadows, cowed and crawling away.

Crying his name, the boys rushed to his side. As she approached, she could see blood beginning to spread from a wound on his ribs. She sensed danger like an icy chill running through her. A movement up ahead caught her eye and she grabbed Mikey by the arm, pulling him from a darker corner of the alley

“Get away from there!”

She had only just got the words out when a toothy maw lunged for the boy, missing by mere inches. It struck like a snake, coiling back into the shadows with a hiss. But this was no snake. She didn’t need more light to know what it was. It grew like a plant, a dark and blighted-looking vine ending in a single bulbous bloom. Its unusual appearance had caught her attention several months back in the woods. When approached, she discovered that the bulb was a head, lined with several rows of thorny teeth, which it used to hunt. It had been a near miss that day as well.

The boys fell back from the creature, screaming in fear. Zelda went for the only weapon she had: the dagger. She threw from a distance, the sharp blade piercing straight through the top of the monster’s head. It dropped to the stones. A few moments later she observed something else she had learned. The creature withered before their eyes, decaying rapidly until it was nothing more than ash.

She approached the remains, reaching down to pick up the dagger, as well as a handful of seeds. These she pocketed, and returned the dagger to its sheath. She stared at the ash for a long moment, dread settling in as she finally had confirmation of what she had feared to be true.

The darkness had spread to the city.

She turned back to the children, who were mute in the face of their lingering terror. She knelt down to take Richard into her arms. As she did so, wordlessly, she returned the dagger to Bo.

\-----

With the midnight chime Zelda was able to retrace her way back out of the city. She walked when she visited at night, so it was nearly two hours before she reached the forest. She was tired, and wired from anxious energy after the events of the night.

Richard would recover. The wounds hadn’t reached anything vital. Mamamu Yu had been curious, but mostly concerned for her beloved pet. Gaining promise of her discretion had been easy enough to obtain. 

That boy really was stupid.

But he had come to their aid, saved the dog.

She was holding the torn and bloody remnants of his cloak. She wasn’t even sure how she was going to return it to him. It was probably a lost cause anyway and he probably had _hundreds_ of cloaks finer than this one. A whole room just for cloaks. She snorted at the thought.

Before long the shadows between the trees gave way to a warm glow from up ahead. Voices and flute music could be heard. She could smell something roasting. The forest opened up into a large clearing that was peppered in a chaotic assortment of huts. A bonfire was blazing at what could loosely be considered its center, several people gathered around it, enjoying themselves. 

Zelda smiled tiredly at the sight, too amused to begrudge them their entertainment at this late hour.

The Kokiri tribe were eternal children. Literally. They never grew past childhood. Kokiri forest seemed to produce them from its untamed arms, bringing them a new child every few years. Like children, they spent more of their time in play than in work, often sleeping through the day and holding revels like this through the night.

She used to think she was like them, that she was one of them. She knew better now. After Impa had come into her life she spent less time with them than ever, every passing day bleeding some of that old belonging away.

She stood watching the scene from the outside for so long that one of the youngest children took notice of her. A small girl pulled away from the group, running up to her. It was Saria.

“Zelda!” She called out. “You’ve been gone awhile.”

The older girl smiled down at her. “Yeah, sorry.” She noticed a pink glow behind the girl’s left ear, and she tilted her head to try for a better look.

“Oh! Look, see?” Saria reached back and pulled forward a small winged fairy. It looked timid and quickly returned to hiding in the girl’s hair. Zelda couldn’t help but clap her hands together, happy for the child. This must be what all the partying was about. The coming of a Kokiri person’s fairy was a cause for great celebration.

“Oh Saria! That’s great!” She pulled the little one into a tight embrace that took her feet off the ground, both girls laughing. As she set her down, she heard footsteps and chuckling approaching from behind.

“Yeah, good job, Saria. Thought we might have ourselves another fairyless freak.”

Mido and a few of his idiot friends passed them by, Mido colliding purposefully into Zelda’s shoulder. He was carrying a crude bo staff in a loose grip, laughing loudly as he passed them by without a glance. It was easy enough to snatch the stick from him and sweep his legs out from under him before he even turned around.

“Zelda!”

The girl turned to find Fado staring at her from beside her hut. She was frowning at her, admonishment in her features. The Kokiri didn’t really have a system of government, but there were a few who had been around longer than others. For however eternal their youth was, eyes had a way of showing age.

“You know that’s not how we handle conflicts here.”

Zelda did look away a little guiltily at that. The party had grown suddenly quieter, and as she looked back at the bonfire she saw that most of the eyes were now on her. Some did hide their smiles behind their drinks.

She wanted to throw Mido’s dumb little stick into the fire. Or stick it somewhere else entirely. She settled for launching it into the trees, feeling a little better as he scampered after it. The music resumed, and everyone else carried on.

Saria took her hand and squeezed it, looking up at Zelda sympathetically. “Don’t worry, yours will come.”

 _No. No it won’t._ She felt her eyes burn a little at the thought. Then the girl noticed the cloak that had fallen from her hands and pointed at it.

“What’s that?”

Zelda looked at it, having forgotten it entirely. She scooped it back up. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not yours,” she observed. Of course she would know that. Kokiri had little in the way of possessions. Zelda struggled to think of an explanation. No one knew where she went some nights.

“No, it’s….It’s a friend’s.” That would have to do. With that she excused herself, making her way to her own little hut. She passed through a grass curtain, and, once inside, began to fire up her own little fire pit. Aside from her cot, there was little else beside walls of shelves, holding everything from simple cooking supplies to various objects of intrigue she had found within the forest. She dug around until she found a spool of thick black thread and a needle, taking them and the cloak with her to her cot.

Her sewing skills left something to be desired. Her stitching was irregular and she repeatedly had to undo her progress. The firelight was inadequate to the task and she spent several hours hunched close over her work.

She could hear the birdsong of morning by the time she was done, in the roughest sense of the word. She fell back on her cot, rubbing her eyes. Her head was throbbing.

She wondered, as she felt exhaustion take her, if the boy had gotten any sleep either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So now I’m just blatantly stealing names from the games and using them how I like lol. But also, if there’s anything that doesn’t make sense or is confusing, please ask me about it! I don’t want to make an error or be unclear about something at this stage. Thanks!!!


End file.
